Rejected By Life
by Skitzo Slytherin
Summary: All good little witches and wizards get their Hogwarts letters when they're 11... right? What happens when one witch is overlooked in her dire time of need?


(A/N- I have not, I repeat, I have not given up on my last story. I've got major writer's block on it and I figured that I might as well do something productive rather than just not write. So. taadaa!)  
  
(Set in The Sorcerer's Stone, all original characters are present)  
  
(Do I LOOK like JK Rowling to you? Do I look like I have big truckloads of cash parked in my driveway? Um, no. Chiara and the plot are mine.)  
  
And nooowwww. onto the show! -curtain rises-  
  
  
  
------------ Prologue ------------  
  
  
  
The first week it was easily laughed off. Chiara brushed the discrepancy away, choosing to believe the lie that her parents had told her. The second week was nearly the same. Empty laughter and several comments of, "Oh, it's just because we're so far away." It was a joke. All just a joke. What else could it be but a joke?  
  
But it was no joke, nor anything remotely close. By the third week Chiara was forced to realize the plain and simple facts.  
  
Hogwarts hadn't accepted her.  
  
She had been branded, soon to be dirt to the wizarding world. Oh no, it wasn't that she couldn't do magic. In fact, she had been learning year one spells at the age of nine. They had found out about her past.  
  
And, therefore, condemned her to a life of misery.  
  
Chiara collapsed onto the cold, rough stone floor of her room, her sparkling amethyst eyes were now a dull, dusty purple, gleaming with dew, the beginnings of tears.  
  
The beginnings of her life as an outcast.  
  
Why? she thought, pulling her knees tightly to her chest. Why does it always have to happen to me?  
  
Hogwarts, dear Hogwarts. You've always accepted the scum of scum. What makes me different? Why is my past so horrid, so livid, that you couldn't bear the presence of me in your hallowed halls? Why murderers, cold hearted slayers and not me? Why not me?  
  
"Why not me?" she screamed, her voice inhumanly loud. It was like nails unmercifully scratching at an invisible blackboard. Guilt-ridden sobs wretched themselves from her throat as she dug her sharp, jagged fingertips into her calves.  
  
It was pain. Pure, undiluted pain. Oblivion washed over Chiara as she sat in a trance-like state watching her thick, warm blood escape from her legs. It slid slowly down her legs, forming thick tendrils of crimson. Death was her friend. After all, it had been with her during her entire life.  
  
Now it was time for her to accept death. To become it.  
  
She glanced at her wrists with wide, knowing eyes. It was a sense of comfort, security. Then, in a blinding fury, she clawed at the tender skin, nails eager to go deeper, to tear veins, to destroy the very essence that kept her alive. Blood poured freely from her wrists now, and Chiara felt herself ebb away into a deep sleep. A very deep sleep.  
  
This was what she had always wanted, wasn't it? To be free from all this? She had never quite confirmed that there was a heaven or hell, but it didn't matter. Even a dark emptiness wouldn't be better than the life that she was given; the burden that she was forced to bear.  
  
She collapsed, body falling completely to the floor, her mind exploding with pain. Why not me? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU HAVE TO STEAL THE VERY THING I WANTED. It was the only thing I asked for... the only thing...  
  
A bright light began to glow then, from the very core of her soul, as she began to slip from the world of the mortals.  
  
Some would later say it was like looking into the sun, but that was inaccurate; it was worse. Much worse.  
  
Soon the sheer layer of light, just barely coveting the fallen girl, exploded with the force of a sonic boom, engulfing everything for miles.  
  
It was a sound the blew out the eardrums of every human, every creature for a 5 mile radius, but that didn't matter.  
  
They were all petrified a tenth of a second later.  
  
Then, like a miracle, the lifeless body rose. Her head lolled slightly to the side, but there was once again life in her eyes. These great, purple eyes wandered around, finally resting on the charred wood and ash that was once her home. True, it had been a cruel home, filled with beatings and painful memories, but it was a home.  
  
And now it was decimated.  
  
In the midst of chaos and ruin, something alive was borne out of the sky. It soared down, the life, the pure energy of it seemingly radiating off of the monochromatic appearance of the smoldering town.  
  
It was an owl, a majestic snow white bird, and, as it gracefully slid through the air toward Chiara, a crisp envelope slid out of its strong talons. The letter drifted softly down to Chiara's outstretched hands.  
  
Her muscles twitched uncontrollably, as if a great earthquake was keeping her from opening the letter. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.  
  
It seemed hours before she could regain control of her shaking body, but, finally, she did. Slowly she tugged the wax seal off, her eyes too blurred to make out the emblem, and she pulled out the parchment and began to read.  
  
  
  
Dear Ms. Commozione,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry....  
  
  
  
.....  
  
dun dun dun! 


End file.
